


Trouble (With a Capital ‘T’)

by i_claudia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Crossover, Silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-21
Updated: 2011-01-21
Packaged: 2017-11-11 07:38:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476164
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_claudia/pseuds/i_claudia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For chibirhm, who wanted a Music Man AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trouble (With a Capital ‘T’)

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on LJ [here](http://i-claudia.livejournal.com/65643.html?thread=1639019#t1639019). (21 January 2011)

Arthur has been the librarian in River City for years, and he’s been perfectly happy with his life the way it is. He likes the quiet serenity of his job, the mustiness of the old books; he likes that when people come looking for something—anything—he knows exactly where to look. But this salesman has changed everything, set the town and everyone in it on their ear, and Arthur wants no part of it. Merlin— _Professor Emrys_ —he corrects himself, angry at the slip, is promising things he has no intention of delivering, and Arthur hates seeing him set his trap for everyone Arthur loves. It isn’t as if Arthur’s been silent, but no one believes him; they’re all too starry eyed by this magic man, the man who brings them promises not one of them but Arthur realizes are hollow, nothing but hot air and flourishes. He won over little Gwaine straight away, and if he breaks that boy’s heart, Arthur is going to actually murder him.

To make everything worse, Emrys keeps showing up _here_ , of all places, as if he knows Arthur doesn’t approve of him—he must know, Arthur hasn’t bothered to keep it a secret—and is doing everything he can to win Arthur over, set him just as head-over-heels as everyone else in town. He’s here now, pretending to read Shakespeare but really just making eyes at Arthur while Arthur works behind his desk, stamping books and sorting them to be reshelved. 

Arthur is so absorbed in ignoring Merlin—Professor Emrys—that he doesn’t realize the man is standing right in front of him until Emrys clears his throat.

“What?” Arthur demands. Merlin smiles. Arthur pretends he doesn’t find Merlin’s smile sort of dear and winning.

“I’d like to check out this book, please.”

“You don’t have a library card,” Arthur says, feeling smug and righteous.

“I could get one,” Merlin replies, leaning his hip on Arthur’s desk.

Arthur glares at him—the desk is off-bounds to touching, everyone knows that—but Merlin ignores him. “No,” Arthur says finally. “You couldn’t, because I don’t feel like giving you one.”

“That’s not very fair.”

“Life isn’t fair,” Arthur retorts, and pushes his glasses up his nose. Merlin reaches out, and before Arthur realizes what he’s doing, takes Arthur’s glasses away entirely.

“You’re very beautiful, you know,” Merlin says conversationally, and for pity’s sake, that is _enough_.

“Give me my glasses back,” Arthur says, glaring at the fuzzy blob that is Merlin’s outline. It shifts.

Merlin’s voice is thoughtful. “I don’t think I will.”

“Give them to me or I swear, Merlin—”

“Aha!” Merlin sounds triumphant, and Arthur can’t figure out why until Merlin adds, “You called me Merlin!”

“So?” Arthur feels hot and prickly with the realization, uncomfortable.

“Come out with me,” Merlin says, “and I’ll give you your glasses back.”

“I will do no such thing,” Arthur replies, with dignity, and makes a wild grab for his glasses.

Merlin dances back out of reach, and Arthur nearly curses him before remembering that there are probably other people in the library too.

“These are very nice glasses,” Merlin muses, somewhere on Arthur’s left. “I could get a fair price for them in any number of places—”

“Fine,” Arthur says on a gust of breath, because he’s sure Merlin would do it—Merlin’s the type to cut off his own nose to spite his face, to sell his grandmother’s nightgown just to see if he could get away with it—and pretends he doesn’t hear Merlin’s quiet crow of triumph.

“Here,” Merlin says, and there are hands touching Arthur, folding his own fingers around his glasses. Merlin’s hands linger longer than necessary on Arthur; Arthur ignores the tingling they leave behind on his skin. “I’ll pick you up tonight, seven o’clock.”

“Do you always blackmail your dates?” Arthur says acerbically while he fumbles his glasses back on.

“That was extortion, actually,” Merlin replies, sounding amused, and tugs at Arthur’s collar where it’s gone crooked. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it. See you tonight, gorgeous.”

He saunters out of the library, whistling, leaving Arthur to stare after him in something a little like shock and a little like admiration for the sheer nerve of the man.


End file.
